Arranged Love
by Queen Saga
Summary: The Ministry has appointed a new law for wizards and witches at the age of 23. Arranged Marriage! Hermione Granger's life is running smoothly until she learns that her new-soon-to-be-husband is the infamous Draco Lucius Malfoy. ForcedMarriage!Dramione. *ABANDONED*
1. Chapter One: A Not-So Pleasant Letter

**Title: Arranged Love**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling. I own the plot and the plot only.**

**Warning(s): Dirty innuendos, a blushing bride-to-be, and a fabulous Ministry.**

**Character(s): Draco/Hermione, background Harry/Ginny, Blaise/Pansy, Ron**

**Summary: The Ministry has appointed a new law for wizards and witches at the age of 23. Arranged Marriage! Hermione Granger's life is running smoothly until she learns that her new-soon-to-be-husband is the infamous Draco Lucius Malfoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One A Not-So Pleasant Letter**

**_"Here is the life you have tried to throw away. Here is your second chance. Here is the destiny you have tried to shake off by inventing a hundred false roles, a hundred false identities for yourself. It will look at first like a disaster but it is really good fortune in disguise, since fate too knows how to follow your evasion through a hundred forms of its own. Now you will become at last the one you intended to be." _  
><em>― David Malouf<em>  
><strong>

**_January 8th, 2003_**

This isn't suppose to be happening. Hermione bites down upon her thin lips for one, two, three seconds too long. She isn't ready; isn't ready for the emotional trauma this can - and will - conflict. Not ready for the new set of knowledge, new set of rules this would add into her already desirably peaceful life. Hermione's slender fingers cautiously caress the letter previously placed precariously upon her lap, above the smooth, and rather proficient fabric of her navy pencil skirt. Her sigh is shaky, wavering and so - _so_, undetermined, disorganized, a disruption compared to her normal placid, serene form. She's already had enough rules in her life, already has had enough strangers and old acquaintances plummeting themselves into her odd life and changing it for both better and worse.

She shuts her eyes tightly, wanting to obstruct herself from this world she was made a part of the moment she had turned eleven - allowing them to remain closed for a couple of agonizing seconds. The witch's long, curving eyelashes flutter delicately as her eyelids open to reveal weary, honey-nut brown eyes that read of war-ridden tales of a girl; young, beautiful, never given the chance for a proper childhood. She swallows - _one fidget, one twitch_ - swallows down all those explicit images - _memories_, and purses her thin, cherry red lips.

The events occurred during this morning's wide, and public press conference replay throughout her crucial mind, including the wired words of the current Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt:

**_As all of you have been recently informed, the Ministry has passed a new law which requires all unwed, and - or unattached witches and wizards to go through an assortment of tests and quizzes to determine their perfect, other half - a compatibility arrangement, in other words. When given the name of your 'soul mate' _-** insert air quotes** - _you and your partner will be assigned a specific date in which you must be married by - preferably, and most likely by the age of twenty-four for either sides. After being wed, you are obligated to provide the Wizarding World with an, or various, of magical offspring - ahem - by consummating your marriage. There is, of course, no due date for that specific requirement. We will do our best to pair you up with someone you've at least had a minimal amount of contact with, after narrowing down your compatibility, although, results are not guaranteed. Now, are there any questions?_**

_What sort of compatibility are you looking for?_

**_Through the tests that you've been required to take, we are using the results to determine the matches through personality - of course, as well as intelligence, political views, magical abilities, and et cetera._**

_What the Ministry is doing is simply uncouth! If you allow this to actually happen, then you're just as lousy as Scrimgeour and the rest of them!_

**_As much as I appreciate your lovely input, Mr. Jefferson? - Johnson? As I have stated earlier, 'are there any _questions_', not statements. There is currently no need for comments like that without thoroughly examining the situation. (And - Potter, sit down - no need to cause a riot.)_**

_Minister, what is the reason for this detestable law?_

**_After the event of the Second Wizarding War, leading to the defeat of Voldemort, there has been a massive decrease of population in the magical world._**

_Why now? You could have addressed this years ago, so, why now?_

**_The Ministry was allowing time for the Magical World to progress, to flourish; despite so, even over the years - there hasn't been a worthy advancement in that category. The Ministry has decided that it is time to take this matter into our own hands._**

_And are there any.. loopholes to this?_

**_Other than already being in a matrimony, or near-matrimony relationship with your significant other, or paying the fine the Ministry has stated - no, there are no other methods used to be excluded from this law if you are the age of twenty-three and up. I understand most of you may have your doubts and complaints over this new law, nevertheless, the Ministry must take charge in providing the Wizarding world a prime, healthy, and gradual future for further and present generations. Thank you, now if anyone has any more questions, please consult the Ministry through via owl, and we shall get back to you as soon as possible._**

After having a predictably chaotic hissy-fit during her private, one-on-one meeting with Kingsley, concerning the sketchy topic, and only receiving reasonable explanations that would make any stubborn idiot see through the distinguishing lack of harmony in the system, and realize that what the Ministry was doing could only qualify as a bit demanding and tyrannic, and more-over justified and righteous. Hermione decided to wallow in minor self-pity, then momentarily chuck all those negative feelings into a well somewhere off in Scotland, and live happily ever after in the land of Denial.

Sadly, reality had other plans for her.

Hermione sighs another explosive sigh, shaking her head involuntarily and crumpling the letter a bit in her harsh grip. She couldn't altogether blame the Ministry for trying to help restore the population after the wide vary of casualties due to the war, the depressing state of said-casualties being another cause for lack of 'wanting to get freaky' for witches and wizards everywhere - even at this point in time. To her bitter delight, however, there is still plenty of other things to blame the Ministry for, even with Kingsley's prestigious leadership. Once corrupt, always corrupt - it seems so.

"Well, open it already! We've been waiting for hours!" '_We' meaning you, and 'hours' meaning a couple of awkward seconds._ Hermione bitterly regards the young, squealing red-head sitting besides her, with a tedious glance. She had nearly - _nearly_ - forgotten about her friend, Ginevra Molly Potter (née Weasley). Hermione mildly cringes at the name and rethinks her choice in companionship for a second or so, Ginny's pinching nudges being the main reason in which Hermione notes the mental battle for later on evaluation.

Ginny, being the lucky witch she is - and seems to have always been - did not have to commit to such an absurd plan, having already been wedded to Harry James Potter not even a year after the war had ended. The red-head nudges (or jabs, in this case) her once again with her unusually pointy elbow - _Must warn Harry!_ - leaving Hermione wincing and nodding to herself. Hermione inwardly grimaces before putting herself up for the increasingly painful task of having to open the letter. The least Ginny could have done was jokingly volunteer to do so. She pulls out the parchment paper with a tense form and a sweating brow.

Her cocoa brown eyes dart from one word to another with a deteriorating speed, each and every damned word sinking into her noggin as her frown grows deeper and deeper to the point of seemingly no escape. "Oh Godric, Dumbledore, and Merlin's pink knickers.." the frown never exactly leaves her place, but instead of looking like someone has suddenly stepped on her pet Kneazle, she looks as if she has just witnessed Harry and Ginny getting it on on top of his work desk. To conclude so, the witch looks utterly horrified and ready to faint any moment from now. Trust me, it's happened.

"Merlin's pink knickers?"

"Bloody hell! Shite! Bugger!" Hermione's tone drastically changes in an instant, screech-like, piercing, and threatening to bust Ginny's eardrums. "Wanker! Bollocks!" The string of curses dies down a bit when she can longer come up with anymore colorful language, settling on repeating simple, mundane ones.

"Who is it? _What_ is it?" The ginger girl's voice is stern, but the bemusing smile playing upon her freckle-covered face merely gives it away. Her companion grows awfully pale, weak to the knees (despite the fact that she's sitting), and she's no longer able to hold the Ministry-addressed letter anymore. Ginny quickly snatches it away the second it leaves Hermione's grasps, adrenaline mildly pumping throughout her pure blood as anticipation floods her brain. The eyes wander across the parchment, widening a significant amount, as the same horrified expression cascades her face. "_Malfo_y? Draco bloody Malfoy?" She looks hysterical, a clash between shock and mirth, her soundless laughter starting to resemble a cry for help. She stifles her merriment with physical determination, as she clutches onto Hermione for both of their sakes'.

"You mean Draco _Lucius _Malfoy.." Hermione's expression grows more vehement second by second, grabbing onto Ginny's arm with far too much pressure than Ginny would like. Or live through. "I'm going to cry, Ginny - and murder you. And Malfoy. Must murder Malfoy." Her hands tighten reflexively on the witch's arm and a painful gasp is let out by Merlin-knows-who. "I have to murder Malfoy. Then I'll be sent to Azkaban and won't have to deal with him. Yes - that sounds like a plan.." There's this frightening, resolute twinkle in her eyes that makes Ginny concern genuinely over her friend's mental health.

"Now, now, Hermione - surely he's changed! No need to go all homicidal mode on him.." _Worrying glance. One twitch. Two Fidgets._ "I mean, look, it says on here that he's found a position as an auror working for the Ministry. He can't be that bad, to be currently working with two of his childhood rivals - one being my husband and the other being my brother - and still living and breathing! Honestly, he's working with _Ron_. Surly, if he were still the same snot-nosed ferret he was at Hogwarts, Ron would have knocked some sense the moment Auror training started. Then again I'm curious as to why they haven't said anything bordering _close_ to this delightful piece of information.. Well, then again - I can't really blame them, I'm never really paying Harry my full attention whenever he's talking about his raids and cases - God forbid he grasps that I don't give a shite about half of the things he blabbers about that Ministry, even the gossip isn't gossip.. And Ron - well, Ron's just a lost cause, really. But goodness, Malfoy of all people - you'd think they.." Ginny patters continuously as Hermione clings fervently onto each and every word, finding her grip growing more painful by each spoken syllable.

"An auror? A sodding auror?" Hermione's tone is full of doubt, there's no possible way Draco Malfoy could have ended up being an auror. "Hah! Then it _must_ be fake! Must be some kind of joke that wanker Smith's trying to pull. You know he's been all pissy and vengeful after last month's Christmas party fiasco." She scoffs, a positively blinding smile on her victorious face. Ginny sighs aloud, watching her with moderate hilarity as her beloved friend goes through an 'in denial' phase that allowed for far too much cursing to be involved.

"Hermione," she begins slowly, _That's seriously the only thing you concluded out of my rant? _eyes sparkly with whatever emotions are stirring inside her stomach, staring straight at her fellow witch. "Kingsley Shacklebolt signed it himself, with the Ministry's official stamp, it still has a trace of Kingsley's magic running through it.. seems rather real to me." Ginny waves the parchment in front of her, her manicured finger pointing and marking the the _exact_ spot with the Minister's signature which practically glows with a lingering tidbit of the Minister's magic.

Hermione frowns a somewhat childish frown at Ginny's supposedly helpful doing. Even if some little, nagging part in Hermione knows it's the horrible truth - Ginny still could have gone along with the silly act. The pair sit there for a couple of seconds, atmosphere: unreadable, unrecognizable, and more tense than either of them would prefer to discern. "I thought you were my friend, Ginny Weasley," Hermione sniffs, causing Ginny to smile a benevolent smile. "I hate you." _Insert another not-so convincing sniffle_.

"I am your friend, Hermione, and that's why I'm not allowing you to bury yourself in a rut." The ends of Hermione's mouth twitch and Ginny knows she's already been caught up in her web by now. Hermione's sigh is theatrical as she lessens her death grip upon the witch, a weary smile playing delicately on her lips, the negative thoughts not altogether fleeing from her filtered mind, but nor are they clouding up the aforementioned witch's consciousness.

"I still need to talk to him - _if _this truly is the case. I need to meet up with him - discuss this - anything!" Hermione's tone is once again borderline frantic, and Ginny really thinks she should take some Calming Potions, or have it stuffed unceremoniously down her throat while she's in cahoots with her own mental trauma, at this rate. The older witch notices the sheepish expression on the latter's face, and pulls off her own sheepish smile, conceiving that she's becoming fairly barmy, at such a concise amount of time.

"I'll need to talk to Harry and Ron, as well.. Might bring up the topic about the whole auror business, in the meantime," Hermione wistfully adds, her dry humor soon seeming moreover vague and insecure. "I haven't seen him in years. After the war.." she begins, soon drifting off onto no where reliable or knowledgeable. "Really, Ginny. I don't think I can do this." The brunette looks crestfallen to the point where the red-head feels her heart twinge in a disturbingly empathetic manner for the girl.

All the playfulness that filled the air earlier abandons with little to no grace.

"Hermione.." Ginny begins, but ceases all speech when she realizes that whatever reassurance was going to slip out of from her mouth would do no good to the current situation, at least, not significantly. "His address is given on here, for contact purposes. I'm surprised he's not living at the old Malfoy Manor, but rather - at some place in London. You can owl him, Hermione. Ask him to meet up with you to talk about what will be happening because of this." She sends the witch a pleading glance, and Hermione nods hesitantly, slowly trudging off for to find Missy, a far-too skeptical owl the Weasley bunch had given to her for her twenty-first birthday.

Taking advantage of Hermione's present occupancy, Ginny shuffles off to the brunette's so-called _medicine_ cabinet to gather a bottle of wine or three. Simply because wine solves practically everything in life.

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><p><strong>AN - /Meanwhile, Malfoy is off having a panic attack somewhere off the course of nowhere.**

**Yay for not-at-all-consistent revision! /crawlsintoarolypoly .**

**- Saga (Miss-I'll-Update-Every-Week-HarHarHar)**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	2. Chapter 2: The Cafe

**Chapter Two /A Not-So Pleasant Reunion**

_**"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."  
>― Jim Henson<br>**_

_**January 10th 2003**_

After having received the rather non-pleasant letter, informing Hermione who she has been assigned to be wedded to, she frantically - if not a bit _maniacally _- and of course, after the resulting shock - dashed off a quick letter to Malfoy, stating with forcibly polite words that she desires to see him over an amiable and soothing cup of tea, sending it off to the address stated in the Ministry ordered letter.

"Do you reckon he'll come, Ginny? Of course he's not, he has no reason to.. Does he? - He's not going to come, Ginny!" Hermione frantically whispers to her friend, her half-bitten nails digging into the comforting fabric of the straight back chairs that occupy **Cafe Veela**, a decently well-know coffeehouse of some sort, located right off the course of London's main town, and owned by a pretty, blonde, magical being whose presence attracts more customers than the menu items themselves.

"Of course he'll come, Hermione, just stop fidgeting. Why - erm - why wouldn't he come? He has no reason not to.. technically, old-rivalry-vengeance aside.." The younger witch stops herself before she can say something much worse, noticing how the insistent fidgeting Hermione had earlier displayed is simply growing more insistent. There's a cringing twitch of her lips as a frown graces her lips when she realizes that she's merely helped Hermione in dig herself a deeper hole that holds nothing but more doubt and aggravating pity-wails. _Ron was right, I do suck at comforting people,_ Ginny grumbles to herself.

The older witch simultaneously swirls her coffee with her shining, silver spoon, her eyes seeking the supposed-to-be familiar blond head in between the passersby outside the transparent window. At least - she presumes he's still blond, with predictably sharp and angular features.. _oh god oh god _for all she knows he can be brunet, short, and stubby with a raging beard! Hermione hasn't seen him in years, she has no reason, no right or justification to make any assumptions― _Twitch Subtle Comprehension_. The witch remembers the frigid picture of Malfoy that had accompanied the letter the Ministry had sent - having the sudden urge to smack herself at how idiotically her memory had just escaped her. With an exhausting groan, she slams her head savagely on the table, startling anyone and everyone occupying the normally serene, non-violent cafe. _Maybe if I get a comatose concussion, I can get out of this_.

"Erm. Hermione.." Ginny gasps somewhat skittishly, reaching out with more courage (than she would like to admit) to try and console the witch she sadly considers as one of her closest friends. _Blimey, maybe I need to go out more.. _However, using some sort of Merlin-given talent, Hermione spots the movement despite the fact that her eyesight is being concealed and all she can see is the darkness that evoked by the harshness of life, and the redwood coffee table itself.

"Don't touch me."

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><p>"Well, well, well, Granger - don't you look like such a dear?" A far too familiar drawl awakens Hermione up from her apprehensive drought, a dreadful sort-of feeling slowly and creepily spreads. <em>Oh God Oh God Oh God<em>. The aforementioned witch barely acknowledges Ginny's surprising gasp, and another load of heavy alarm continues to advance throughout her worrisome noggin. Hermione immediately - if not a bit too quickly - raises her head up, sliding her chair back in the meantime, and nearly knocking over the poor waiter trying to take another lovely couple's order behind her while doing so. The familiar wizard makes a clucking noise and Hermione pleads for Merlin to cast an unforgivable on her in order to end her misery.

After having received a rather _delightful_ letter informing Hermione who she was assigned to be wedded with, she frantically - after the resulting shock, of course - dashed off a quick letter to Malfoy, stating that she desired to see him over a presumably soothing cup of tea, sending it off to the address stated in the Ministry ordered letter.

"Don't worry Hermione, he'll come," Ginny sounded absolutely doubtful, not at all believing in herself as well. Her light brown eyes continued to dart from one place to another, searching for the blonde-little-git that was once a treacherous deatheater. Hermione sighed loudly, slowly twisting the silver spoon that softly twirled her somewhat sweet tasting cappuccino, creating a circle-like pattern. Seconds passed by, soon becoming minutes, and yet, it did not at all come close to an hour.

"Face it, he's not going to come Ginny. I'll just go contact the Ministry and tell them that my _partner_ is just a ferret-like-git!" her words were somewhat annoyed, irritated at the Slytherin Heir for not coming.

Right when she had finally been done with it all, after gathering her cinnamon, brown coat as well, she quickly made a turn towards the transparent door, but was soon stopped by an abrupt figure appearing right before her form, almost knocking her back as well. The strong figure caught her arm before she fell, the tight grip causing Hermione to look up at the mysterious person.

"Malfoy?" her eyes widened in shock as she examined the now, young man. His appearance was awfully different! And yet, not different enough for her to tell it was the one and only, Draco Malfoy, AKA, the ferret!

"Nice to see you, Granger, Weaslette." he shot one of his trademark smirks, soon letting go and putting her pale hands into his jacket pocket, but absolutely not before brushing a piece of his platinum blonde hair away from his somewhat deep, yet chilling grey eyes. He was no doubt, the infamous Draco Lucius Malfoy.

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><p>Hermione's piercing, deep brown eyes continued to examine the define beauty. The way his platinum, blonde hair was gently positioned against his soft grey eyes that seemingly glistened whenever he would stare at the blazing sun. He had awfully grown a lot since Hogwarts, even Hermione couldn't deny the damned fact. Draco now somewhat held a poised bone-structure, making him look shaped and well mannered in a twisted kind of way. The young brown-eyed witch couldn't help but stare at him wildly.<p>

His clothing was composed of fine material, the word wealthy practically sewn into his midnight navy cloak that draped his back.

"Having fun staring?" a slide comment emitted from the young man's thin lips as a smug smirk ruined what was left of his soft features. Hermione shot him a quick glare, regretting ever coming to this cafe to meet up with him. It wasn't technically an insult, or anything close to that matte - it was a mere act of teasing. And yet, Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"You haven't changed at all, now have you, Malfoy?" she snarled, her words practically dripping with poisons of all kinds. Her expression somewhat threatening, in an entertaining manner. The Malfoy heir merely grinned gleefully, amused at the girl he once stated as _Granger_ and even _Mudblood_.

"Nope," he grinned once more enthusiastically at Hermione's frustrated expression. Ginny glanced from one to another, the sight of an old married couple fitting perfectly with them. The twenty-two year old Weaslette bit down on her bottom lip and coughed quietly to cover her laughter, a bemused expression implanted on her freckle-covered face.

"Oh well, I'll go and open up the store, Hermione. Good luck," she quickly dismissed herself, and lucky for her- Hermione seemed to be too caught up with the infamous ferret to notice the red-head leaving the tiny cafe.

"Now are we going to discuss this _marriage thing_, or are you just going to glare at me the whole entire time? We don't have much time till the wedding, Granger," Draco sighed loudly before leaning back into his seemingly comfortable, wooden chair. Hermione looked quizzically at him for a moment before bottling up all her frustration, her pride somewhere along the thin line between humility and victory. A weird separation, but overall remotely significant to Hermione's thoughts.

"What do you mean not much time? It'll be quite some time before you turn 24," she couldn't help but blush a bit at Draco's bemused expression. She _had_ gone and looked at Draco's information listed below the letter, after all.

"I never knew you were so interested in me, Granger," he smirked his trademark smirk, his twinkling grey eyes somewhat causing Hermione's body to weaken. He was absolutely handsome, sexy you can say so, and no woman could tell differently to themselves about it! But Hermione was different from them. She merely shook off the feeling intently, soon trying to focus all her attention on his sudden words.

"What do you mean not much time?" she repeated, only without the somewhat inappropriate words.

"I mean, the Ministry doesn't care whether both of the partners are 24, they only care if one of them is," his voice sounded casual with a touch of seriousness as he slowly sipped on his red currant rum. Hermione stared at him as if he was of another species, she couldn't fathom why he was drinking alcohol when it was barely 9 in the morning. Her deep brown eyes widened as his smooth, polished words sunk in.

Inside her somewhat pure noggin, she counted the days left until September 19, the day in which she would turn 24. "Those conniving little.." Hermione quickly paused for a moment, Draco's stare somewhat intoxicating her for a moment. "They had no right not to tell us! We barely have a month to get married!" her voice rung slightly through the hollow-like cafe, thankfully for her, there was merely 3 or so people surrounding them, not counting the staff there, though.

Hermione's well polished face soon transformed to a deep shade of scarlet, quite resembling a bright apple because of her slightly ridiculous outbreak.

"Now, now, no need to get your knickers in a twist," his voice was calm, collected, and yet, his somewhat chilling grey eyes announced an absolutely different story. Hermione opened her mouth, ready to retaliate, but her words were quickly stopped by Draco's sudden remark. "Listen Granger, if we're going to get married, we better learn to not snap at each other every second we get," the Malfoy heir sighed a loud sigh, his eyes bored, as if he had been placed in a locked room with absolutely no entertainment of any kind.

Hermione Jean Granger's shocked expression created a bemused smirk which played gracefully on top of the young man's polished, and somewhat pale face. His eyes soon remaining transfixed at the brown-eyed witch.

"You know, it's not polite to stare.." the words came out somewhat confident with a touch of amusement which made Draco chuckle slightly to himself. The young store owner held a small smile, proud of her witty comment.

"I see you've changed quite a bit, Granger," with another smug look implanted on his priceless, gorgeous face, he once again leaned back against his slight comfortable, deep maroon chair.

"I see you haven't," she slowly retorted before taking a meager sip of her sweet cup of cappuccino. Her coco brown eyes which resembled the light, fluffy drink didn't dare to leave the blonde-haired ferret. He handled his glass filled with a deep red liquid with grace as it tipped towards one direction to the other.

"Well, Granger, now aren't we in for a wild ride?" he winked a seductive wink, a devilish grin implanted on his perfect face. His platinum blonde hair roughly brushed against his somewhat long eyelashes, hiding his vague grey eyes as he took another delight sip of his red currant rum, and yet his eyes still never left Hermione's graceful-like presence. Causing her pumping heart to somewhat melt.

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><p><strong>AN-Thank you for reading ****_Arranged Love_****, remember to review and favorite!**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	3. Chapter 3: Blackmail?

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only.**

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><p>The Malfoy heir leaned back against his snow white sofa which was imported precisely from Paris, France. The apathetic expression resting carelessly on top of his porcelain-like face awfully didn't go along with his demure, yet cold grey eyes. Draco Lucius Malfoy was a contradictory in so much ways to the point where even the world's most intelligent wizard or witch could not comprehend the single thought(let alone a muggle). The young man's day replayed once more in his head as he mentally examined each and every single bloody detail. Just in case he had missed something or so.<p>

His thoughts paused as a innocent-sounding chuckle emitted from his slender lips, soon replaced with a warm, gentle grin. Draco hadn't seen Hermione in an awfully long time, the last time he had seen he was when they graduated from Hogwarts! He was amazed at how she had grown from being an annoying little know-it-all to... well, Hermione hadn't changed _that_ much, then again.

Through the years the intelligent little witch had learned how to tame her bushy, cinnamon brown hair, leaving it now wavy with a touch of smoothness. Her deep, honey brown eyes now twinkled with a delightful spark, the vindictive-like presence it held before, now, just gone.

Hermione Granger was still short, barely reaching Draco's masculine chest, and yet she made that up with her daring curves that could seduce any bloke. He was never the type too get too caught up over a girl, Granger for that matter, but there was just something different about her. Something that brought amusement to Draco Lucius Malfoy.

A sudden thought hit the young man as he roughly reached into his pocket shirt, soon removing a slightly crumbled up parchment with deep red, cursive writing. The signature marked with the name, '_Kingsley Shacklebolt'_. Before straightening out the letter(which was sent to him exactly 7 days ago), he slowly pulled himself up, his posture poised and quite significant in a kindly manner.

His slightly protective grey eyes darted from one end to another, his expression simple with nothing more than a mere half-grin.

_She owns a book shop, eh? No surprise there.._

The young man chuckled to himself as he continued to examine the slightly smeared parchment. It was idiotic of him to stuff it into his pocket like that, but oh well. He couldn't let Granger know that he actually took an interest in her by practically showing off the little letter, now could he? No, not at all. He slightly ran his slender fingers through his platinum blonde hair, a somewhat relieved expression gently resting on his pale face. His jaw was somewhat relaxed, giving him a slightly casual appearance.

It was awfully unusual to seem casual for Draco Lucius Malfoy. He was always in tip-top shape, most of the time that is. The Malfoy heir gently rested the slightly-misshaped letter on his silver, marble-made table which was imported from Paris, France itself. His slender fingers moved towards the hair-covered forehead, pushing it aside for a moment and soon massaging his temples intently, an anxious expression soon replacing his _happiness_.

A slightly annoyed sigh left his thin lips when a ding-donging sound came off, signaling that someone was at the door.

_I wonder who it is.._

Even the tone in his thoughts seemed sarcastic. The ding-donging sound came to an abrupt stop, and was soon replaced with loud banging noises against the pale, snow white door that stood between the young Malfoy, and the mysterious being outside the house. He slouched all the way towards it, soon grasping the golden doorknob, twisting it, and pulling it back to reveal a furious-looking woman around his age or so. Before he could properly greet her, she was already practically tramping into the poised house, her stomping, midnight black heels perfectly matching her style.

"Pansy, come in.." Draco slightly groaned as he slowly took the dark-haired woman's cloak. But before he could, she quickly slapped his hand, causing him to merely back away, a bewildered expression covering his irritated sneer.

"How come you never told me you were getting married to that Mud-blood!" her tone wasn't at all questionable, it was cold, harsh and awfully offensive, as you can tell. Draco couldn't help but let out a disgruntled sigh, his chilling grey eyes matching along with her dark, almost deadly eyes.

"How did you find out about it in the _first place_?" he crossed his arms, slightly mocking her as she began to look hesitant a bit. Draco was curious in finding out who rat out on him. Quite curious indeed.

"Your little friend, Blaise Zabini."

_Blaise, you bloody git! _He couldn't help but repeat the sentence throughout his noggin, more curses began added to it with each sentence.

"I will not allow people to assume that you dumped me just for that Mud-blood!" she shrieked, her voice rung loudly, echoing thoroughly through the meagerly-hollow room.

"For bloodys' sake Pansy-"

"Watch who you're talking to!"

"it's an arrange marriage we're talking about. It was assigned by the Minister of Magic himself. So you do realize that I won't be able to get out of that without being sent to Azkaban for whatever years!" he snapped, his eyes intensely staring into her's. Draco continued to wait for a response, just another reason for him to retaliate with the worst words he could think of at the moment. "Plus, we broke up years ago. Have you forgotten?"

Seconds past by, along with minutes, soon making it feel like an hour, until...

"Well then, you're going to have to do something about it, correct? Unless you want the Daily Prophet to suddenly grasp their dirty little hands on your teeny secret..am I wrong?" her tone dripped with venom, each word was a knife being shoved into Draco's back.

"You wouldn't.." Draco's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as his storm-like grey eyes continued to examine Pansy's smug expression.

"Draco, it's your choice.. find a resolution to our little problem, or the whole wizardry- world finds out about your dirty little secret.." she held a devious smirk, a smirk Draco would've greatly match. But for now, he didn't feel arrogant, merely furious with a regret-like touch.

"I told you that out of confidence and trust!" he yelled, but he knew that wouldn't do anything besides provoke the witch a little bit more.

Pansy began towards the door, her hand soon gripped tightly around the golden, bright doorknob, pulling it back to reveal the midnight sky. Although, before she could even take a step out, she muttered the words, "Good bye little doggy. Hopefully you'll come to your senses..."

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><p><strong>AN- Sorry for the late chapter! I've been awfully occupied with school and so forth. Anyways, here is chapter 3 of 'Arranged Love'! I just want to say thank you for favoriting(sp?) this story, reviewing and so forth. Thank you so much.  
>Anyways, remember to review and favorite! xx<strong>

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	4. Chapter 4: Irritation

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only.**

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><p>A week had already passed and yet- no letter addressed to Hermione had arrived. The witch was awfully anxious, waiting and waiting for Draco's letter to finally hither. The brown-haired-witch pondered and pondered, pacing around her warm, cozy and semi-luxurious house decorated with a finer yet light color in life, coated with a slightly darker shade. The blazing fire place which was placed close to the left, inner corner, held portraits resting cozily on top of it. The fire, crackling after periods of time and gave off a meager-like 'sophisticated' yet a slightly spirited atmosphere. After what seemed like more hours of waiting, she soon cuddled up on her fluffy, marshmallow-colored sofa which lied in the center of the room, facing in perfect position with the roaring fire place.<p>

The witch sighed, staring deeply into the alluring fire that crackled with every chance it got with her slightly dreary, cocoa brown eyes which Ginny would absolutely not at all approve of. She felt a twinge of disappointment fill her thoughts, but soon brushed it away with a slight shake, causing her luscious, chestnut brown curls to somehow frolic softly in place. Suddenly, as she about to lose all hope on Draco ever mailing her back, a light tapping sound echoed slightly through the wide room.

She quickly whipped her pale face towards the closed window, her light brown eyes twinkling slightly as her curls loosened up slightly. Bouncing up and down lightly with enthusiasm. Nothing, she sighted. And yet- the abnormal knocking sound emitted once again. This time, the witch narrowed it down to her maroon, wooden door.

_Who could it be, coming at such a late time?_

She felt her curiosity rising. Not to mention her alertness. Her long slender arm reached for her wand which lied on top of the see-through, glass coffee table, later raising the weapon up in a meager-like fighting position, her legs soon passively moving her towards the door. Her unoccupied hand slowly grasped for the golden knob, afterwards turning out clockwise and somewhat thrusting it open to reveal a handsome, yet pale Draco Lucius Malfoy waiting outside her door with a soft, satin green scarf around his neck to keep warmth.

"Malfoy!" she slightly explained, a twinge of both excitement and happiness swam up onto the surface but it quickly faded afterwards when Hermione caught a glance of Draco's grimace expression. "Erm. Come in, come in." The brown-eyed witch did a slightly awkward gesture, welcoming him into her cozy flat. With nothing but a mere nod, he stepped inside the wide home, stopping once he was barely three steps into the room. His stormy grey eyes analyzed the room, darting from one place to another with great impact-like examination.

He held not his usual smug expression as he turned around, staring Hermione up and down before muttering the scornful-like words, "Huh, you actually have taste in decor, Granger. I'm astounded." The blonde haired wizard instead held a soft grin on top of his pale, almost porcelain-colored face, resembling the one of a Quidditch player Hermione had overheard Ron and Harry gibbering about him after coming back from a case dealing with burglary, hexes and some other shenanigans that the brown-haired witch did not very much care for.

_What was his name? Gade? Gavin? Oh yes- Galvin Gudgeon, seeker for the Chudley Cannons._

"Stared enough yet, Granger?" Draco stared down at her under his semi-long eyelashes, his features softening up a bit as well. The wizard once again did not hold his usual smirk, no trace of any smugness roamed around his presence, but instead- it was merely guilt that flood above the surface, with a bit of sorrow brushed in between it all. Hermione overall still couldn't help but turn into a faded scarlet color which matched with her light, Gryffindor red blouse.

The coco-brown eyed witch merely locked eyes with the silver-eyed wizard, an enlightened grin practically implanted on top of her soft-featured and slightly pale face. "Yes, quite enough," Hermione daintily answered his unusual question as a light smile played on top of the ex-Slytherin's dim-like face. "Now, now. We must talk on the technicality of business terms about our little dilemma. Have a seat, _Draco_."

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><p>Hermione watched carefully as Draco fiddled with his cup of tea, twirling and twirling he seemed to do it constantly. "What do you mean you can not do it?" her statement was spoken in a stern-like tone as she stared at the platinum-blonde haired wizard, an irritated expression dangling passively on her grimace-filled face. The young man merely stared down at her under his long eyelashes, a bored-like frown resting on top of his now-surprisingly-sharp-featured face.<p>

"For bloody's sake, Granger. I explained this once, now do I have to explain it again? I just can't do it." Draco took a small sip of the Snakeweed tea which Hermione had brewed up in moments notices. Hermione felt her jaw tighten as she was ready to merely punch the blonde-haired ferret with all the strength she had had left from her stressful day dealing with some demanding customers! He was truly a Malfoy at heart. Everything he wanted in life, he had gotten it with nothing but a mere snap of the finger. Hermione though, couldn't stand his attitude and absolutely detested the idea of Malfoy actually getting what he wanted. And so- she decided that it was practically her mission to retain Draco from reaching his goal of total peace.

"Well- you still haven't explained why!" she somehow retorted as she felt her cheeks warming up along with her short temper.

"Listen! I just.. I can't. Alright?" his voice lowered slightly as he stared from one place to another, avoiding eye contact with the persistent witch. The brown-haired girl was quiet for a moment as she stared at his nervous-looking face, analyzing each and every gorgeous detail that formed his handsome, pale face. "If I got married to you.. there would be a consequence to it."

"Well Malfoy, you can't get out of this _scam_ anyhow. It's either whatever the _consequence _for marrying me is, or getting a nice, long stay at Azkaban."

Draco practically burned a hole into the back of Hermione's head as she stood up and walked towards faded maroon-coated door. His gleaming, silver eyes traveled along the witch's sexy, darling curves, a gentle smirk finding its way onto his handsome face. Draco soon shook himself, mentally slapping himself during the process and afterwards decided that it was best to stop gawking at the know-it-all and to start focusing on what was important. He needed a plan.. plans to be more specific.

Plan A; was too magically crawl his way out of the damned marriage with the muggle-born witch, and as a result, Pansy Parkinson would have to keep her mouth thankfully shut. Plan B, though(just another back-up plan as if Plan A failed), was for Draco too somehow plainly stop the insufferable witch from gabbing away his dark, and deadly significant secret to the whole bloody magical-world, keeping the sham-of-a-marriage alive, in a twisted way as well.

The blonde-haired wizard was finally brought to attention when Hermione gave out a fake, yet abruptly loud coughing sound. The door was opened widely, as she gestured softly towards it. "Since we have nothing else to comment on, I think it would be best if you would just leave now- before we start arguing over something once more."

Malfoy couldn't help but chuckle a bit, and yet it sounded more like a dirty sneer than ever. "Fine, fine." He walked with grace towards the door, his long slender fingers tucked inside his faded, silver-grey coat pocket. Hermione felt her heart beat slightly faster as she stared at his beautiful, extremely attractive face, watching as the warm, cozy-like fabric from his coat brush against the tips of her non-tampered fingers which were resting on the edge of the wooden door.

"Well, then. I assume we'll meet again," the words came out as a whisper, a whispered statement that elegantly sent shivers down her bare spine. He glanced at her once more, a light smirk-like-grin now creating a seductive-like atmosphere to surround him. "Good night, _Hermione_."

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><p><strong>AN- I absolutely apologize for such a late chapter! I've just been so busy with this and that, I had no time for updating. Plus- I really had a hard time planning out how to end the chapter without giving much detail on Draco's dirty little secret and so forth. Don't forget to review, favorite and so forth! xxx**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	5. Chapter 5: Cherry Red Wine

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only.**

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><p>"So how was your <em>meeting<em> with Malfoy last night?" Ginny whispered, emphasizing the word 'meeting' as she turned the wooden sign that hung around the silver doorknob around, stating that their small, yet slightly successful shop was closed for the night. It _was_ a Sunday, after all. Hermione stared at the practically blazing red-head, biting down on her bottom lip as if it were a usual routine, a habit in other words.

"Irritating." Hermione said with a mere twirl of the heel before pacing towards the back of the shop where old, dusty books about restricted topics such as horcruxes and so forth were placed- just in case. The red coated book was plainly titled, '**_Ways of a Horcrux_**'. It was an abnormal and blunt title for the dust-bunny-filled book, but was overall reasonable if you actually ever read it. There hidden right in the middle of the book was a slightly crumbled up letter signed by the Minister of Magic himself.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" Ginny asked, her voice came out potent, not to mention persistent as she leaned against the frame of the door which led to the room Hermione was in, her arms crossed with a smirk implanted on her freckle-covered face(a smirk which Malfoy would've been nicely proud of). Hermione's light, cinnamon brown eyes still did not at all leave the parchment, merely wavering to-and-fro, to-and-fro.

"I'll looking to see if I can find some... failure in copyright." She fiddled with her words, not technically knowing how to state it. "A loophole, in other words," as her eyes continued to roam elegantly even down to the last period on the piece of parchment.

"Any luck?" Ginny asked, hiding a bemused grin with a mere concerned-like expression. Hermione bit down on her bottom, cherry red lip as her eyes ran over the paper once more- as if it would reveal the answer subsequently. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she sighed- accepting the grudgingly irritating truth.

"No. Nothing at all!" she shrieked, shaking her head consecutively at her ginger-haired friend. Her freckle-covered expression soon transformed into a light, yet amusing, half-grin that suggested worse than usual matters. "Oh wipe that smirk off your face.." Hermione quickly sneered. To her disappointment- this caused the Weaslette to merely giggle softly once more.

"Can't you request an extension for the wedding? I mean- your birthday is like.. what- two, three weeks from this very day?" Ginny kindly suggested, a light finger twirling her blazing, sapphire colored is hair. "So.. you'll have to get married the day or week afterwards, right?" She waited for the brunette's response. As a minute passed- Hermione finally nodded her head, sending her chestnut brown hair up and down amusingly. "That's awfully too quick Hermione. Admit it- despite how bright you may be, and how capable you are- you still wouldn't be able to handle the stress Malfoy would cause." The witch said with an all-knowing-like tone.

"I never denied that statement in the first place, Ginny," she sighed a longing, reluctant sigh- letting all those pathetic memories of Draco torturing her during her days at Hogwarts run through her wide mind. She rested the top of her delicate fore-fingers on top of the bridge of her nose- massaging it in irritation. As if hoping it would calm her awful nerves. "What am I going to do.." the statement barely sounded like a true question, the last words lingering.

The red-haired witch took a seat next to her friend, patting her softly on her palish hand. "Don't worry Hermione- the Malfoy we saw last time didn't seem too bad." She begin, biting down on her bottom lip a bit as her eyes wandered around the tan-colored room. "Maybe.. maybe he's changed." Hermione did not respond to Ginny any longer. She merely held a tight grip on the edge of her seat before pushing herself up- walking towards the dust covered cup-board that stood daintily between two other potion-infested cupboards. The witch grabbed onto the round handle- soon giving it a nice pull before revealing a slightly antique-looking bottle of cherry red wine.

She chucked the bottle from the cupboard, grabbing the two wine-glasses that were before leaning against the wine bottle. "A long night filled with tiresome problems deserves a least some decency of happiness. Or for this matter- at least a bit of deluxe wine.." Ginny stared at her dear friend with her matching, coco brown eyes that shone gracefully along with the dancing flames which crackled silently in the corner of the cluttered room. The tips of her fingers coated around the glass, gripping it tightly as she took it off of Hermione's hands, and into her own. A sly smile which was seemingly aroused by the amusing atmosphere curved more and more- soon transforming into a bright, grin- showing off her shiny, pure white teeth.

Hermione tipped the bottle slightly back- letting the bottle ooze out the bloody-colored liquid into Ginny's glass. "This is the only good outcome of your little dilemma. Did you know that, Hermione?" Ginny somewhat joked, smiling a light, yet slightly oblivious grin. The Weasley's amusing statement brought a enlightening smirk onto Hermione's palish face.

She slowly raised her glass, a mute sigh escaping from her thin lips during so. "Cheers, the last speck of decency in my life till Malfoy comes and slaughters it whole."

And with a light clank, the night seemed to have been washed away with the delicious, soothing and merely savoring taste of cherry red wine.

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><p><strong>AN- Hello to all my readers, sorry for the slightly boring chapter. This will just be like the soft-going chapter that needs to the action filled chapter. Anyways, remember to review and follow-or something like that- for more updates!**

**- Saga Hugs&Kisses**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	6. Chapter 6: The Story Behind it All

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only.**

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><p>Draco cursed colorfully as he glared at the brown-coated clock, muttering of how he was going to be late and so forth. Another late night at the office for him, he assumed, examining the messy-written documents. His grey eyes once again swept over to a calender titled September with the fourteenth day circled maniacally that was posted next to the cocoa brown clock, along with an opened-window as well. The sky was a creamy, rosy red with soft, fluffy clouds embracing the gorgeous, satin color-like sky, fading softly along the midst of it all.<p>

Just another night; blackened slightly because of the new-moon that would cause blazing street-lights to merely brighten just a bit in both the muggle, and wizardry world. Luckily for Draco, the moon had not revealed its riveting, beautiful waves, masking itself with thick, dense grey clouds that slowly faded one by one. Draco grabbed his midnight black cloak, one hand soon digging through his pockets while the other one gripped his neck-collar with great force- as if he was afraid the cold would blow his away.

"Where is the bottle, dammit..." he grumbled, pausing once or twice to observe if anyone was following the blonde-haired wizard. After a couple of more minutes of digging in his pocket, the ex-Slytherin broke into a run towards a plain, yet intricate silver-coated flat that was close by. One would assume he was going to break into it, if not knowing his real intentions. Malfoy quickly jabbed the silver key in, a tinge of hope burrowed deep inside of his chilly heart. He needed to find the vile. The vile that would merely do nothing but save him for the night- or week, for that matter.

The blonde felt a touch of sensation sweep over his body- was it too late for him? Or was it just a mere warning? He clutched his chest, feeling the throbbing pounds against it. His cloudy grey eyes darted from place to place- alert and ready. Suddenly, he spot it- the glistening vile at the corner of his eyes that shone against the slightly cloud-covered moon. Malfoy practically pounced next to the vile which contained a faint blue potion best known as _Wolfsbane_. The heir drank as if he had never drunk before in his life.

Draco drunk till the final drop of the pure, essence-like potion, a tiresome expression on his face. It had been a routine for several years now. _Tastes disgusting._

_Remind myself to bring home some ingredients to be prepared for next time. Once again._

He thought softly to himself, examining the now-empty vile that was coated lightly with a cherry, scarlet color in his monstrous paws. It reminded Draco of the Gryffindor house's _mark_, you can call so yourself. A velvety red shade with a golden bronze along side with it to add a charming effect. Even so, Malfoy always did put his house before the trio's. It was awful- horrible, even. Living a life beneath the grazing shadows, looking over your shoulders constantly when you suspect that someone was following you.

Only one person knew his damned secret (besides Harry and Kingsley, that is), and that one person was a young woman with short, straight hair by the name of Pansy Parkinson. She was a hazard, a true hazard- really. Draco didn't even remember how the witch found out! It was merely out of the blur, in his opinion. A sinister woman she was. He sighed longingly before planting himself onto his pale white sofa, one that had slightly resembled Granger's, careful not to damage it in any way.

_What am I going to do with that infuriating woman? Awful. Using blackmail against me and all that.._

Draco thought to himself once more with a crease in between his jagged forehead and a grunting sound emitting afterwards from his fanged-mouth. The blonde-wizard pondered to himself with determination lingering.

_So what if people find out. It doesn't even ma-_

_Of course it matters you dope! The whole wizardry world will find out my secret if I don't stop her._

He sneered to no one in particular - angry at himself for getting into this dilemma in the first place. He should have agreed to marry Astoria Greengrass in the first place, but oh no, he just had to be his stubborn ole self; letting his ego break through and declining the whole wild arrangement, stating that it crazy. If only he could go back in time to change it all. Draco ruffled up his fur slightly by shaking his upper-torso in frustration. He was still partially groomed - even in the form of a werewolf.

After what seemed like mere hours of pondering- thinking of diabolical plots that would somehow magically kill Pansy's reputation or so forth, he gave up. Letting his mind passively wander into memory lane.

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><p><em>It was a slightly blackened, chilly night; the wind blew furiously despite it merely being August. Draco was on another late-night case with another young man by the name of Harry James Potter. Not technically his usual partner-in-crime, but it wasn't so new to the two as well. Draco was usual placed with Zabini, Blaise Zabini in the sort of mission, while Harry would remain side-by-side with his red-headed friend, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Anyhow, this case wasn't out of the usual for the two- it was nothing but a mere 'attack' case. Word was- a werewolf had been tormenting the area, slashing and bashing the houses, slaughtering anyone and everyone who came in sight of it too.<em>

_The two wizards had their wands securely in their grips, ready to attack- or defend themselves at any moment in that matter. It was an eerie vicinity, the wind blew like a hazard, brushing against the two men's faces. Shivers ran down their spines thoroughly as they felt the atmosphere around them thicken. The full moon revealed itself, causing Draco's chest to tighten just a bit in anticipation. Was this going to be the night that he would breathe his last breath? No, absolutely no way. He was with Harry Potter- the boy who had lived! If he could survive a killing curse, he would probably be able to assist both of them in surviving a werewolf-attack._

_A bone-chilling howl was let out close to where the two men were, causing them to clutch the neck of their coats with a tighter grip. Still- they were aurors, trained to be in tip-top shape, despite whatever-horrifying-background they may have. Draco held a slight smirk on top of his slightly pale, chiseled face- his gorgeous, sharp features shining softly against the glistening moonlight. He was ready- absolutely ready to fight back whatever creature that was lurking in the shadows. Of course he knew it was a werewolf, but one so stubborn- and yet what Harry would title as brave enough to face two armed aurors- even in the midst of what seemed like unconsciousness- was going to be somewhat of a challenge in his opinion._

_Suddenly- a loud growling sound caused Draco to lose his focus for just a mere second. Sadly for him- a second was just enough for the hideous werewolf to attack. The blonde wizard felt his body being pummeled against the ground as razor sharp teeth dived into his pale skin- pure blood rushing out of the already-deep marks before even Harry could scream out for his partner and old nemesis. Draco felt his mind go blank, swirling drastically as if he were on a broken merry-go-round. His vision was merely a tint shade of grey- a deep grey that awfully resembled the darling color black._

_He heard Harry's voice as it echoed loudly through the night sky, a yelp escaping from the beast's mouth afterwards._

_And that, sadly- was Draco's last recollection of the horrible night._

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><p><strong>AN- So, what do you guys think of this recent chapter? Glad that I've finally revealed Draco's dirty little secret? Anyhow, what do you guys think is going to happen next?**

**Remember to review and follow(that's the word, correct?) and so forth!**

**- Saga Hugs&Kisses**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	7. Chapter 7: Three Bottles

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only.**

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><p>"Good luck, Leroy!" Hermione cheered softly, waving simultaneously at the man who strode towards the door with swagger-like foot-steps trailing behind it all. The 6"1 bloke chuckled softly at Hermione's ecstatic goodbye, passively letting his medium-length, pure red hair that barely reached his shoulders flow pass his sharp-features.<p>

"Good day to both of you ladies," he tipped his round, narrow hat once more, his other hand wrapped tightly around the wand properly placed in his left-cloak pocket. The door shut closed as a light bell rung. Leroy Huntts was a young man, merely at the age of Hermione Granger. He had a chivalry personality, charming in many outstanding ways indeed. He wasn't bad looking either. His bright red hair made him stand out as an auror, though, causing him to seem a bit egotistic at first - as if he wanted all the attention he could receive.

Leroy was a regular customer at Hermione's store, being a **brainiac** and so forth, Hermione enjoyed his darling company. Ginny didn't mind his charming personality as well. The minty scent of his cologne remained lingering in the somewhat cramped store, appealing to Ginny quite some much. His neat appearance was quite tasteful, with a touch of his perfectionist ways, he seemed even almost - just almost - perfect.

"Oh well, better get back to work, Ginny," Hermione smiled a soft smile at her partner, watching cautiously as Ginny merely nodded in an unusual manner. It was out-of-order for Ginny to agree with Hermione - due to the red-haired girl's stubborn personality. Even so, the brown-haired witch shrugged it off, not wanting to over-think anymore. Over-thinking was like a curse at times.

Hermione sighed a relieved sigh, watching as the moon shone softly - the clouds fading to reveal the glorious beauty. Finally, the witch decided to stop dreaming for a moment, snapping back to reality. She quickly turned the sign, that was hung right beneath the door-knob, signally that their somewhat neat shop was closed for the day - or night, to be more accurate. Her soft, brown curls slowly bounced up and down as she hurried to the basement, in other words, where the old, weary books were placed.

The youthful witch was not at all surprise to find Ginny there, wandering her delicate fingers through random, broken down books with a plain expression resting on top of her freckle-covered face. Ginny - though was not as serious about books as Hermione was - still had a passion for it. Why else would she have agreed to open the book store with Hermione - practically throwing away her dreams of ever playing professional Quidditch as an official member of the **Holyhead Harpies**.

"Leroy is quite a charm, don't you think so, Hermione?" the words left Ginny's thin lips with a lingering disposition to it. If Hermione hadn't seen Ginny's lips move itself, she wouldn't have believed it herself. It was obvious that Leroy was gorgeous and fine in many ways, but the two intended to keep it to themselves - their thoughts and opinions of him - that is. Since Ginny was already taken by Harry, Hermione didn't bother to go into squeamish - gossip with Ginny over their casual customer.

"I - uhrm - yes, I guess so," Hermione awkwardly mumbled, raising an eyebrow towards the red-head before shrugging slightly. She slowly strode over to a dust-bunny-covered book-shelf, not technically intrigued with it in any way - but just felt the need to occupy her mind and attention. Ginny shook her head slightly, muttering to herself with a disappointed expression resting on top of her fair skin with slight freckles to match gracefully. The bright witch - though was quick witted, did not know much about love itself. Or romance, to be more specific. Mostly when it came to the opposite sex.

Ginny had always wanted Hermione to hook up with Leroy, since the first time she had met the young gentleman when he had happened to come upon their store on a stormy night. Gladly for him, the two witches let him stay for an hour or so as they caught up with the bills. He was amusing, yet intelligent. Serious - he could be at times - but instead overall tended to joke around with a light chuckle escaping his smiling, thin lips.

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><p>Meanwhile, Draco yawned softly as the half-moon revealed itself, glorious and shining in many ways. His eyes skimmed a page in the book he was holding, not really paying attention much to the words. It was as if they were being sucked into his brain, and blown out through his heart-shaped ears with not much care to it anyhow. The Malfoy's mind was being placed somewhere else - somewhere far more intriguing and significant. <em>The wedding,<em> he had not heard himself whispering the words out loud, his tone as if it were a sin to even comprehend the though of it following through.

Draco had not wanted to come upon the topic, who would - if they were in his little predicament? Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, he set down his book. The blonde's long, slender fingers soon moved up to his temple, massaging it with great impact, hoping it would somehow shoo away the horrible thoughts until further notices. Sadly, it didn't. The constant massaging merely made it worse, to be more realistic. The ex-Slytherin shook his head, pieces of his platinum blonde hair soon placed in unusual spots, one being right in front of his glaring, silver eyes.

Piercing grey eyes continued to explore the luxurious living room, hoping to escape from the nightmare-like-dilemma. _What am I going to do?_ - the wizard found himself questioning the same question over and over again. _Is Pansy really going to rat on me?_ - Draco once again asked himself, hope suppressing from what seemed like - beyond the grave.

_She wouldn't, _he mumbled to himself, _Would she? _The Malfoy pondered for a moment, barely a second passing by before the - _Of course she would_. With his hands clutching his knees, he sighed, though it sounded quite like a grunt rather than a regular, bored noise. It sounded as if the one making the noise was in distress, irritated, as if dealing with something awfully and merely unbearable. The description perfectly matched how he was feeling right at this very second.

After feeling somewhat betrayed by his slightly pessimistic mind, he found himself accioing himself a bottle of wine along with a glass, both imported from France itself. A gracious gift from his mother, when she had found out about his income-increase due to excellent work habits in the Ministry of Magic a year or so ago. The wine bottle was still in good shape as he dusted it off with his minty breath, loosening the cork until it somehow sprung open, and pouring it into the glass with an elegant format lingering along with his slight movements.

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><p>It was already five past one in the afternoon, the sun was already shining exquisitely upon the hour - its glaring light welcoming Draco into an unbearable embrace. The slightly young wizard woke up, drunken and surrounded by empty bottles of wine. The one bottle of wine turned into two, then turning into three, late at night. Draco grunted, struggling to pull himself into a stable position. Suddenly, he felt a splurging feeling crawl through his throat - before he could even think, his instincts kicked in, sending him sprinting into the restroom, grueling noises escaping from the opened room afterwards with absolutely no hesitation to it.<p>

After what seemed like hours of throwing up - although was merely a couple of minutes in reality - Draco washed his face, although he had not entirely shooed away his darling little hangover. Who knew wine could be so drastic? Locks of platinum blonde hair remained disoriented as his slender fingers combed it slightly - with absolutely no good outcome to it. It remained messy, looking as if it were a dirty shade of blonde instead of a lighter, whiter shade of it.

_I feel like crap_, he sighed a dramatic sigh - the ones where actors and actresses would pull off during an emotional plot in the film. The Malfoy drenched his sharp-featured face with icy-cold water, hoping it would somehow wake him up and bring him to his senses. It _did _do something to the blonde-haired wizard. However, his senses remained underneath it all - causing him to only shiver in the cold. Draco sat there for a moment, not caring about getting dirty, or anything that related to it. He stared at the pale, light grey wall, his eyes dazed. _Drip, drop, drip, drop_. The sound of water drops being pummeled against the ground echoed in Draco's ears as they fell passively onto the black-and-white tiled floor.

Finally, Draco pushed himself off the ground with force, soon striding towards the snow white couch with tiny amounts of jumps in his steps. He pivoted using the corner of his heel, bent down, accioed a piece of paper along with a pen and began to write:

_Dear Granger,_

_We need to talk._

_Signed,_

_Draco Malfoy_

It was a simple letter, but it was as clear as a whistle.

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><p><strong>AN- Sorry for the wait! Been quite busy. I as well apologize for the lame last-sentence. I couldn't really think of anything else to put.. just had to technically be a metaphor of some sort. Anyways, I'll try to upload chapter eight quicker. Mostly since Spring Break is coming up. One week of relaxation! Remember to review and subscribe for more chapters and stories!**

**-Saga Hugs&Kisses**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	8. Chapter 8: Pansy Parkinson is a Hag

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only.**

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><p><em>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.<em>

The watch strapped to Hermione's thin wrist continued to mock her in its own magical bemusement. Hermione swears - if the thing could talk, it would have been gabbing away about how Draco is never going to make an appearance and it how it's positively hopeless waiting for him - crushing her miniature amount of hope that the blonde wizard would actually show up. After receiving the vague letter during the midst of her day out shopping with Ginny, yesterday, another letter came swooshing into her flat hours after - coincidentally, it was the answer to where and when they would be meeting.

Draco arranged to meet her at a cozy cafe, west of the middle of Hogsmede with a warm, crackling fireplace in the far edged corner, comfortable couches all around the store, giving it a homely vibe, along with an excellent staff of wizards and witches, welcoming the customers with a light smile and a crafty-designed menu. It overall consisted of various types of sweets, tea, soda, sandwiches and the occasional chicken and steak. All at reasonably prices, which was surprising to Hermione - due to the fact that several cafe businesses have been closing in the past couple of months. The reason? - Money.

It was exactly 6:53 at the moment. The wizard had arranged for them to meet at 6:15. _Oh well, just a couple of minutes late.. shouldn't be a surprise_, Hermione commented to herself, remembering her past years at Hogwarts when Draco would be hopeless when it came to arriving to class in time. "Here is your glass of Nettle Tea, miss." Hermione thanked the young waiter before graciously taking a sip of the warm delight. It was merely August, but the drink simply appealed to the witch in many ways - such as creating warmth for her fabric-covered body along with an unusual soothing taste to it.

She continued to quietly sip her drink, constantly checking the shining silver watch which was strapped tightly around her thin wrist. Finally, after approximately 10 minutes, the bell dangling from the corner edge of the door rung lightly, signalling that a new customer had arrived in the cafe's presence. Hermione's slightly tanned face brightened in a soft manner as she spotted Malfoy's platinum blonde hair, shining graciously, as well as his sparkling silver eyes.

Draco's eyes surveyed the light-weight cafe, smiling away a staff member with a menu in his hand who was about to gesture him towards one of the window seats, and instead - the ex-Slytherin began to stride towards Hermione's empty-looking table. "Someone's late," Hermione snarled softly, glaring intently at Draco for a moment. His white-blonde hair was combed back, yet due to the lack of gel, ended up looking messy rather than spoiled. But it was an overall charming-kind-of-messy.

"Malfoy," she stated in a stern-kind-of fashion, as if it was a natural greeting. The blonde wizard merely nodded, taking the seat in front of Hermione. He gave a gesture for one of the waiters, signalling that he was prepared to place an order. It was quiet for a moment, Hermione was watching while the grown man was placing his order for a glass of ice tea. A surprisingly simple drink for his delicate and royal taste. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Hermione broke the ice, glancing at him occasionally.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Draco abruptly put down his glass, causing a loud clatter to emit from their table. "I can't do it," his voice was rough, rougher than usual - that is. He ran his slender fingers through his hair, watching as Hermione merely stared at him, her honey brown eyes intensely focused upon the man.

"Why now?" she inquired, her tone was gentler than ever. He grunted a grunt that sounded like the word: Huh? - in an awfully non-Malfoy-like manner. "The nineteenth of September is arriving, and you _know_that the ministry _will_ force us into marriage after that day." She emphasized the word 'know' and plenty of other words, trying to make it sound threatening in a kind of soft, modest-fashion.

"I know they will, and that's the problem, Granger," he snarled the last couple of words before adding, "I'm not stupid." He glared at her for a while, watching the witch as she merely sent him raised eyebrows, frowns, and overall - mixed expressions.

"I don't want to marry you as much as you don't want to marry_ me_," Hermione began, pausing to add a climatic, anticipating-like effect to it before adding onto her statement, "maybe even more, Malfoy." She savored another gulp of nettle tea afterwards, narrowing her eyes at him constantly and not caring if even the staff noticed, let alone Draco. The brown-haired witch stared at the thin and slender blonde man with curious, cocoa brown eyes. He hadn't technically explained why he wanted _out_ when concerned with the marriage arrangements so badly - and although Hermione did understand that their past hatred towards each other did overall dent the whole concept of it, she still understood that he was now a grown man. With a working job in the ministry and so forth, he was actually very appealing. Hermione wondered once again why he was still single. But then she remembered his old, rambunctious-like ways when it came to the opposite sex.

Draco sighed a loud sigh, running his long slender fingers through his silky, white-blonde hair. He stared at Hermione and her somewhat transformed appearance, a curious expression implanted on his pale and sharp-featured face. The blonde wizard observed her as if she was an interesting monster which he had come across during one of his usual auror missions. Someone he must be alert around. Her appearance had not changed _that _much, when Draco took a real look at her. And her personality **surely **hadn't, either.

Her hair - which was less bushy than before, and seemed quite tame - was tied into a wavy ponytail, most of it lying on her right, broad shoulder while the rest of it rested freely on her back. Hermione's bangs remained the same - clipped back like how it was during her mid-years studying at Hogwarts. The ex-Gryffindor was dressed in a light, floral blouse with a complementary, pure white pencil skirt.

"I understand we have had our differences in the past, but this is the law we're talking about." Hermione couldn't help but bite down on her bottom lip - memories from when she was younger and her old rebellious actions began swirling around inside her massive noggin. Malfoy scoffed, snickering a slide snicker afterwards.

"You're just pulling at me, aren't you, Granger?" he paused, apparently waiting for her to intervene with a retort, but when she didn't - he merely continued with his rant-like-statement,"Law this, law that - you're talking as if you've never done anything wrong in your life." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but instead closed it once more. "Goody-ole Gryffindor. Why am I not surprised that you're concerned with the Ministry?" Draco snarled at the brunette, the smirk that was there at one point vanished seemingly into mid-air within the second he begun to speak.

People were beginning to stare, Hermione noted to herself, before glaring down at the blonde wizard intensely. She absolutely did not want to create a scene, so she remained sitting, and her voice was deadly calm when she spoke. "Why does it matter what house I was in? The law is the law, Malfoy, simple as that - and I will not be held responsible for your rebellious and defying actions!" she snarled at the man who once made her life a living hell - on purpose. Draco returned her awfully amusing expression with a twitch on the ends of his thin, pale lips, and a slight sparkle in his deep, swirly eyes.

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><p>Draco is stubborn. Absolutely very stubborn. Hermione isn't any better as well. They were both quiet, still and quiet. The two magical beings remained in the same seat for an hours or so. It was exactly 7:38 at the very moment. The infernal ticking noise that had came before from Hermione's watch grew louder and louder by the bloody second. They sat there, glaring at each other. Draco was <em>acting<em> like an adamant woman, to be honest. Whereas Hermione was _being_ the stereotypical woman.

"Explain to me why," Hermione huffed. It sounded more like a demand, rather than a mere statement of request. Draco scoffed an empty scoff before slamming his hand against the table in an awfully UN-Malfoy-like way. The staff members glanced occasionally at the two with alert, and somewhat worried expressions. They did not dare to interrupt their little - _argument_, though - for they knew the consequences would be quite painful.

"No!" he exclaimed, his eyes colder and icier than before. "I don't _need_ to explain anything to you, Granger," Malfoy snarled at the brunette, a scowl placed upon his flushed and angered face. "The wedding is off. Is that statement far too complex for your simple mind to understand?"

"The wedding was never _on_ to begin with!" Hermione shrieked at the young man, an outraged expression practically engraved on her slightly tanned face. "You act like getting married to me is worse than being _crucioed_. How do you think _I_ feel, huh?" Draco was on the verge of retorting - but his thin lips quickly zipped tightly into a straight line as if he was somehow stopped by the peculiar question. "Never thought about how I might feel, have you? Of course you haven't. You're Malfoy after all, always thinking about yourself - and only yourself. Spoiled. Rude. Narcissistic. You haven't changed at all," Hermione grunted her rant out quickly.

This was absolutely the final straw. Draco glared at the muggle-born viciously, his eyes practically burning. His expression seemed more hostile than ever. Of course he didn't even attempt to think more of the girl! And how dare she say that he never thought of anyone else besides himself? - It's like the girl _wanted_ to have a hex thrown at her. "Don't talk to me as if you know me!" Draco screamed at the witch, his face flushed and his eyes enraged. The girl had absolutely no right to talk to him as if she _knew_ the boy! It was plain out rude, in Draco's opinion. _Of course Granger doesn't have any manners when it comes to things like this_, Draco scowled to himself.

"I've been through hell, Granger-"

"Oh yeah, of course you have. Little spoiled Malfoy, always getting everything and anything he wanted as a child-"

Draco's cold laugh sliced Hermione's mockery of a rant. "Good God, Granger, are you really that dim-witted? Do you actually believe those things? Did you reckon really see those things happen through my own bloody eyes? I don't think you did!" the ferret yelled heatedly, mumbling darkly once more under his breath as Hermione tried her best to calm herself. How did a conversation about _marriage_ turn into this awfully... complex exchange of remarks. Well - it wasn't technically a conversation to begin with, nor is it now, it was merely a row of yelling and counteracts and horrible tries of being civil towards one another. - Just horrible.

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><p>The staff was beginning to grow more anxious by the second. They wondered constantly whether to break up the fight - or let the <em>newly-weds<em> calm themselves down with the cup of tea Hermione had recently ordered, or the glass of rum which Draco had requested for himself earlier. Hermione found it dreadfully atrocious how the man could just indulge in the rum at such a delicate time. Draco found it astoundingly boring how Hermione was peacefully satisfied with only a mere cup of tea.

It was now officially eight o'clock. The cafe closes at nine exactly. It was silent - absolutely silent. The only people there besides the staff were Draco and Hermione, both too stubborn to even wave the white flag and call it a night. "I don't _have_ to tell anyone _anything_," Draco paused, staring patiently at the brunette - as if waiting for her to retaliate in an unfeminine manner, "and by anyone, I mean you, Granger." Hermione huffed a huff that sounded like a half-hearted scoff.

"Yes, and the fact that in two weeks from now we'll probably be hitched - absolutely doesn't mean a thing to you, actually surprises me." Hermione sarcastically stated, not even glancing at the blond man. "Listen," she began, sighing somewhat dramatically out loud, "I must open up the store early tomorrow - Ginny has the day off. I don't have much time left." The brunette stopped, waiting for him to reply, or retort - but he didn't. He remained there, listening half-heartedly. "Floo me, or just owl me if you want to continue our _delightful_ conversation about our soon-to-be-wedding." There was still a tinge of anxiousness in her tone, but Draco merely shrugged it away. She was being forceful: or at least her words were. Draco could easily tell that Granger was going to press and yank at him constantly until he tells her why - but for now, just for now, she was going to be calm about it for the next week or so. But when that last-week-until-their-arranged-wedding comes around, he knew she would be ragingly persistent - such as she was tonight. Times ten. Or maybe even twenty.

Malfoy sighed a loud, pitiful sigh before straightening himself up. Hermione did the same thing. The staff reluctantly watched with interest, seeing the two surprisingly come off as civil once more. They were like a bipolar couple. Moody. Unexpected. And merely a bundle full of.. what was the word? - just frighteningly awful.

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><p>Pansy is a hag. An old hag. Draco scowls at the woman who happens to be pacing back and forth in front of him and his luxurious couch. She has a small arse as well. And not even the desirable type of small arse. Her clothing seems too tight for her body to be appealing, and too extravagant for Draco's taste as well. Pansy has gotten awfully thin, Draco has noticed - as if something is bothering her. And something <em>is<em> irritating her. The young man knew perfectly well what was agitating Pansy.

Her short thin hair was curled softly, not as straight as it was the last time he had seen her. The witch was wearing a strapless gown that had crystals aligned on the slightly ruffled bottom. She wasn't going anywhere though - no where important with anyone whom she would want to impress. Besides Draco, that is. Draco huffs roughly, continuing to stare at her with those grey eyes of his, waiting for her to speak. Her face seems flushed, her hair befuddled in many drastic and hysterical ways.

"She - let me get this right, Malfoy," her voice is rough, obvious anger emitting from her venom-dipped words. "She declined your offer to desist that outrageously ludicrous excuse for a wedding?" she shrieks, disbelief arising quickly. Finally, something seems to snap in Draco: he stands up, his left hand grips tightly on his wand and his eyes perfectly steady - yet deadly. His blaring expression makes him seem to be a mad-man, truly.

"Why are you acting like it's your own business, Pansy? I understand we dated during our years at Hogwarts - but that was it! Aren't you getting married to Zabini anyhow?" Draco at first assumed Pansy would recede, but she instead glares equally at the wizard. "He told me all about the arrangements last week or so when we had brunch together."

"That's not the point, Draco," Pansy decides to sigh this time, her eyebrows crunches tightly to show her frustration at the man who is acting like a child, in her opinion. "When your father.." she pauses for a moment, trying to find an appropriate word,"passed away, I promised him that I would make sure you'd live up to the Malfoy name. I already partly failed when you became an auror, instead of a rather more valuable pawn to the Ministry. And I absolutely degraded the whole bloody concept when I let you run off and get bitten by that damn werewolf!"

Pansy gets very defensive when she's frustrated. Draco quite dislikes this daring little trait of her's.

"It would ruin everything if you marry Granger," she stated, her voice softer than before. The blond wizard ran his pale and thin fingers through his tantalizing, silk-like hair. He had to agree to Pansy, though. It would technically ruin a lot of things - if not _everything_. "Listen, I was lying when I told you I would confess to the media about your - er - dilemma. I just got caught up in the moment." Pansy always had this vulnerable trace when around Draco, though he was not her lover and just a friend. Despite how much they angered each other at times, and how badly they thought of each other during horrible moments, they were what you would call: _close friends_.

Pansy takes a seat on the couch behind Draco, watching boringly as he takes the seat next to her. His head is placed in his hands soon after, his hair seems ruffled up now. "Maybe.." he begins in a soft-toned voice, one he only uses when conversing with his close friends, "it'd be better to go along with it." Parkinson looks at her fellow ex-Slytherin for moments, her expression unreadable. "Who knows, it might actually turn out well." He chuckles softly before letting silence commence for a couple of seconds - maybe even minutes.

"You aren't the boy I fell in love with," she says, her voice clear and easily fathomable. Malfoy glances at her - at first expecting a glare, but instead receives a light smile from her. "You're a.." she stops again with a bright jump in her voice and a giggle that follows afterwards. "You're a Malfoy. One that's just not my type." She grins once more at him, a bemused expression now rests on Draco's face. Pansy squeezes the ex-Slytherin's slightly cold hand before taking her leave, leaving Draco quite speechless in the end, with a pondering mind.

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><p><strong>AN- I just love Pansy. Always have. I felt guilty about playing her off as the bad character - so I'll be switching her role slightly. Twisting it up a bit. Just to get this clear, as well - she has no more feelings towards Draco, since her heart now belongs to Zabini - Blaise Zabini. The two are now plainly good friends, if you were wondering.**

**I apologize for the boring chapter, but I just wanted to get the whole changing-of-heart part out of the way. With Draco's and Hermione's relationship, Pansy, and so forth.**

**This is merely the beginning!**

**-Saga Hugs&Kisses**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


	9. Chapter 9: Wedding Plans and Firewhisky

**Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.**

**I own the plot and the plot only**

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><p>The days grew closer to the nineteenth of September, a day that both Hermione and Draco simply dread. Draco, after getting Pansy and her blank threats out of the way, realized that he was soon going to have to go through with it and marry Granger, a witch whom he once insulted wisely with harsh words till there were visible tears running down her fair face. In his defense, back then she was a whiny, far-too-ambitious little witch with a loud mouth and a noggin that was absolutely too advanced for the witch. It wasn't entirely his fault that her bossy attitude was certainly irritating to the point where he actually pitied both Potter and Weasley to a special extent. But in the end - the past was the past - the platinum blond-haired wizard was one to understand that with a past such as his.<p>

Granger did change after all - though in ways he wasn't technically hoping for. Hermione of course still cared an abundance amount on education, but she grew to be quite relaxed over the years. Despite their recent quarrels and encounters, the witch was rather willing and flexible during important matters as well as tiny, carefree moments. Draco noticed, surprisingly. The blond wizard shook his head dramatically for a moment before rummaging through some of the case files Kingsley had left with him to glance over.

He wanted to take his mind off of Hermione.

He_ needed_ to take his mind off of Hermione.

His eyes glowed slightly in curiosity as he held possession of a certain case file with Ronald Bilius Weasley, despite how the file merely stated that the red-head shall be taking control over the mission which contained goblins that had gone horrid, thousands of missing galleons, and a debt that needed to be paid. Malfoy pondered for a moment -

_I assume that Granger and Weasley obtained an intimate relationship during the Battle of Hogwarts,_ he started off, letting his mind play a dainty and dirty little trick on him that would clearly not let him be able to finish his duty. _It's obvious they're not together anymore - or else they would have sprung into marriage right when they heard of the barbaric and absolutely atrocious news, instead of letting the other get caught in a web with some other person they'd rather not want to be with._

It frustrated him - for some odd reason. His mother had always complained of how curious he was as a child; coincidentally, the trait continued to stick to him throughout all the years. Draco was just the type of person that was quite incapable of not knowing things, rather they were important, or not. The blond wizard had a thriving passion for knowledge, obviously, which put him in second place when it came to education. One of the main reasons why he loathed Hermione with all his devotion, was because she simply acted like - and _was_ - an infuriating know-it-all.

Malfoy mumbled to himself from time to time while he searched through the documents, making sure not to miss any significant and specific aspects that would come in handy for Kingsley. Draco had to be honest - Kingsley was a true warrior, in the end, the blond rather admired the man and his respected doings. He trusted Draco when others hadn't, and he classified Draco as of an ally, instead of a traitor, nor enemy when others had. Kingsley understood the pressure the wizard was under at one point, due to the Dark Lord - he understood that the people who had a role in The Battle of Hogwarts years ago had as well a decision whether to fight, or cower, while Draco had absolutely no choice.

Draco smiled grimly to himself, scorning himself for bringing back the horrid memories of The Battle of Hogwarts. The recollections still haunted him to the very day - the main reason how he could bring himself to having a peaceful sleep was wine. Glasses of cherry wine. It just seemed to ward off all the flashbacks and nightmares that tend to grasp a hold of Draco's sanity and reality. Over the years, people had not technically forgotten about the battle that killed many beloved people, and most of them were still prejudice - _but_, with time comes recovery.

Draco no longer received any howlers from random wizards and witches, but there were still the occasional hate mail and threatening letters that merely made him grow pale. They still blamed him for what happened - as if he _did_ have a choice to go against the Dark Lord from the beginning. The blond scoffed to himself. The atmosphere from the battle still hadn't quite died out. People continued to mourn over the deaths over excellent wizards and witches that seemed to have touched their hearts at one point.

The blond wizard was still made out to be a traitor by some magical beings, but that didn't stop him from pursuing a career as an Auror, working alongside with Potter and Weasley who had surprisingly changed over the years just like Draco. They were no longer the stubborn gits that wanted to make Draco's life a living hell. The two wizards had somehow come to an unspoken agreement with him during the days of earning a living among Draco. Neither of them taunted Malfoy anymore, nor did they once call Draco by the name of Ferret (or at least Ron _claimed_ to have not called him that during one of the meetings.)

During the Final Battle of Hogwarts, Draco assumed that his future - _if he came out alive_ - would be absolutely dreadful, mostly with a title such as: Former Deatheater, or Traitor. Draco ran his fingers over the inner part of his forearm, caressing a scar that was once the glowing Dark Mark. His arm felt numbed. He leaned back slightly from his chair, letting his left arm waver over him. Draco stared at it boringly as the light shone more bright than ever, as if the light itself was taunting and mocking him for all his wrong actions. Not decisions.

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><p>"How come you never told me you're getting married to Malfoy!" the ginger-haired auror screamed, his sentence sounding more like a mere distress call to express his roaring emotions instead of a question.<p>

"Because I knew you would react exactly like this!" Hermione shrieked back, glaring at her past boyfriend while he merely stared at her with an expression that read: _You're kidding, right? - Oh, please tell me you're kidding!_ "And no, I am not kidding!" she adds. "Why can't you be like Harry and just accept it?" the brown-haired witch sighed, narrowing her eyes at the black-haired auror that sat there besides the quarreling pair, pondering about what to say to break the tension.

"It's the new law created by the Ministry to maintain a well-rounded population in the Wizardry world." Harry finally states, staring intently at Ron - hoping that he would somehow understand that it wasn't_Hermione's_ fault. Nor was it Dra - erm, Malfoy's. "Kingsley explained to me how the Wizarding community has had a decrease of childbirth ever since Voldemort was defeated, which is causing the Ministry - as well as the Minister of Magic, himself - anxiety over the future of the Wizarding society. He lectured me on that when I asked him if there was any way to avoid the law - without marriage, or a sentence to Azkaban."

Hermione stared at Harry with an awed expression for a moment, she was absolutely glad she had a sensible friend like him.

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><p>"When's the wedding?" Blaise asked Draco with pure amusement to his tone. He takes a sip of Firewhisky, avoiding the impetuous glare Draco flings at him for purposeful reasons.<p>

"Shut it, Zabini." Draco snarled, hoping the other man had not noticed his slightly scarlet face. He quickly takes a monstrous gulp of Firewhisky, ignoring Blaise's constant: tsks and the bitter, burning sensation that passes through his throat. The two wizards were sitting in a dimmed pub, just after their shifts had finished. Portraits of past owners were aligned on the wall, along with newspaper clippers filled with excellent ratings of the medium-sized tavern. The ole saloon was currently owned by an old wizard by the name of Alexander Lerwick. He was quite friendly, jolly and just overall a delight. He didn't mind Draco's past, he was one of the few people that understood that The Dark Lord was a master of blackmail and threats.

The blond continued to take sips of the threatening alcohol, grimacing as another a slightly painful, fiery feeling would pass through his throat from time to time. Anxiety filled his conscience, causing him to groan mournfully - as if something was just pulling him. Ripping his nerves and sensibility. Any man could undertake the impression of a masochist for purposely enjoying the riveting, conflagrant sensation it provides whilst drinking so.

He quickly ran his fingers through his disheveled, blond hair, moving the unwanted strands of hair back as well. His hair was becoming quite long - and the thought of cutting it had gone through his noggin plenty of times - but he just never had the time to do so. He was growing quite fond of the long, slightly wavy locks, anyhow, so it would not technically be pleasuring in the first place. With pleasure comes luxury, and with luxury - comes fondness and joy. Fondness and joy were feelings that simply were rare to Draco after _The Battle of Hogwarts_.

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><p>"The clock is ticking drastically, Malfoy. You're running out of time and you won't be able to avoid it any longer." Blaise sighed, watching as his old friend gulped down just another glass of Firewhisky. Draco was always professionally ready when drinking wine, and rum. Beer and whisky, on the other hand, were an absolutely altered matter when it came to the blond ferret. Malfoy was always so vulnerable and whiny after drinking Firewhisky, it merely seemed so grotesque and unusual to Blaise. That was the main reason why he tried to avoid the taunting incidences and why Draco would usually order Nettle Wine or Butterbeer, he was quite tolerant towards a nice cup of cherry rum as well.<p>

"'M n-nox bloody sh-tupid," Malfoy slurred, the arm holding up his head barely capable of doing so any more. The dark skinned man stared at the inebriated blond with a repulsive expression before snatching the glass of Firewhisky away.

"No more whiskey for you." Blaise said hastily, ignoring the other ex-Slytherin's whines and yelps. People were beginning to stare, which caused Blaise to feel more anxious and chagrin. "You've had too much," he explained to the almost-unconscious man, and decided that it would be best to Apparate Draco home before he could do any more damage to his noggin, as well as _both_ of their reputations. The man snarled to himself.

_Imagine the headlines tomorrow: Aurors Malfoy and Zabini Caught in Drunken Stages in The Pub West of Diagon Alley._

It would be an obviously plain and straight-forward title, as well a boring tale to it with absolutely no juicy gossip - but with the help of Rita Skeeter and her snappy attitude, there would be tales and stories twisted upside down and right side-round tomorrow. Blaise threw a couple of Galleons on the counter, nod a good bye to the chirpy barman, grabbed Draco by the collar - tightly - and Apparated Draco's flat, located a couple of - unsuspected - miles left of Hermione Granger's. Despite how intoxicated the man might have been - and was - he was still capable of apparation.

Blaise settled his friend on the first, hazel-colored love seat he grabbed sight of, ignoring the blond's spurred mumbles that disagreed with the wizard's choice. Even when he was drunk, he still demanded for the best.

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><p>Draco Lucius Malfoy woke up the next, fair evening with a blasted head-ache that throbbed continuously, and would not stop, despite his mournful groans and colorful curses, as well as nice cup of tea. - His head would not stop ringing! His face turned sour, more sour than before when he realized - after he finished his <em>second<em> cup of branded, Ceylon Tea - that merely a hot drink would not do. It was time to bring out the big guns, as the muggle saying goes. It was, to be more specific, time for a nicely-brewed hangover potion.

"Bloody Salazar," he constantly mumbled under his breath, hating himself somewhat as he moved - well, shuffled - towards the kitchen, leaning against the wall slightly for reassurance. When the blonde finally reached his destination, he gripped onto the handle of the closest, darkest cabinet. He then proceeded to jerk his arm in a rough manner, causing the cabinet door to fling open, revealing plenty of organized rows of vials filled with the same hangover remedy. Courtesy of both Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini last Christmas.

He bit down viciously onto his bottom lip before grasping the vial most nearby, swiftly unscrewing the cap, and downed the remedy as if it was the Elixir of Life itself. - Or another form of caffeine, in other words.

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><p>Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine, anger sparkle slightly, and curiosity settle into her noggin when she saw Draco Lucius Malfoy standing at her door in late evening with arms crossed and a distorted expression. The brilliant witch leaned against the door-frame, crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest, and mocked his warped expression. Or - at least she <em>tried<em> to mock his aspect. "Not even a proper greeting?" Hermione's brain barely registered the teasing tone before gesturing for him to follow her into her flat for what seemed to be the second-or-so time.

"So, why exactly are you here, Malfoy?" Hermione raised an interrogating brow as he bit down on his bottom lip in the most unMalfoyish way.

"I'm here.." he paused for a moment - whether for dramatic effect, or whether for Merlin-knows-why - before locking eyes with the girl he would soon wed. She didn't at all try to avoid Draco's seemingly scrutinizing gaze, instead, matching his calmness rather professionally. Her expression one of business, rather than friendliness. The two stood there, shuffling awkwardly from time to time, but neither daring to break the relieving silence that danced soothingly around them.

Hermione, being Hermione, decided to finally speak, fracturing and dissolving the silence into wavering, magically enhanced particles. "Forgive me for saying so," she began, smiling a slight sardonic smile that caused Draco to become somewhat taken aback, "but, I think it'd be much easier if you start pulling together coherent sentence, without becoming entranced in whatever it is that's making you stare off into space." Draco managed a weak snarl before sighing a defeated sigh.

"If we're going to actually go through with… with this excuse-for-a-wedding, then we should start getting things in order." Plenty of emotions thrift through Hermione's face – confusion, shock, and oddly, sympathy – before she settled for a light smile that caused Draco's stomach to flutter and twist in the most manly way. "Shouldn't we?" Draco added, in Hermione's midst of understanding. She pursed her lips for a moment – a movement that reminded Draco of Narcissa, during one of her mood swings – before deciding that Malfoy, though had an excellent point, most likely did not have the same wants as Hermione, which would most likely ruin their developing relationship, with the addition of their stubborn attitudes.

She nodded swiftly, taking a seat on one of the armchairs that occupied her living room, nodding her head towards the one directly across from hers, a universal sign for him to take the seat she was suggesting. Hermione ignored his annoyed grunts, her honey brown eyes soon examining his remaining façade. "So?" his tone sounded somewhat accusing, she passed it off as merely curious.

"So." She replied simply, her tone advising that that one word would answer all his questions if he examined the word with more precision. – As if it really mattered, to begin with.

Draco could not help but roll his eyes, pursing his lips to some degree as well, "So, Granger, what are some of your ideas for the Malfoy-Granger wedding?" That statement caused a soft, short giggle to emit from Hermione. The blond clucked his tongue and kept that information away for further investigation.

She leaned back and released a heavy breath, her forefinger tapping gently and consecutively on her amaranth-red lips. "I think," she started, transferring her aloof gaze at the blond himself, "I think it'd be best if it was a private wedding, with the ceremony official there and Ginny as my… as my maid of honor – or whatever – and you can invite Zabini there as your groomsmen – well, man, in this case. Erm. What do _you _think?" Her words were rushed, but Draco caught each and every one of them. "In our case." Hermione quickly added, staring at the blond, her partner, with a slight twinkle in her eyes. Hope.

Draco really did not know why he did it – why he smiled a reassuring smile and answered her question with an easy, '_Sure, sounds like a good plan, Granger._' Maybe it was how she returned his smile with a bright, shining grin. Maybe it was how pathetically hopeful her expression was. Maybe it was that slight twinkle, slight glint in her eyes that made her look somewhat like an angel, so innocent and pure. Or maybe it was the way she nearly – _nearly_ – leapt to her feet at his delightful answer, causing her luscious locks and curls to bounce and sway daintily. Then again, Draco pondered, maybe he was becoming rather mental due to the girl.

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><p><strong>AN - There you go, some foreshadowing - well, not technically, but still. I hope you all rather enjoyed this chapter, I apologize a ton for not updating sooner. I've just been rather busy, but, I hope this chapter makes up for it - even if it's just a bit.**

**Anyways, remember to review, and favorite, and I promise to update chapter 10 soon!**

**PS - For anyone that's plainly wondering - Yes, chapter ten shall finally show the Malfoy-Granger wedding.**

**Thanks for everything you've done so far.**

**- Saga Hugs&Kisses**

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><p><strong>AN - Updated 6/29/14**

**I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.**

**-Saga**


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